Being completely and totally inept at all things technical, I once tried and failed to set up some sitestalker thingamagig to figure out who visits my site and from where. Somehow, it managed to reflect that absolutely no one ever visits this blog, which I know to be patently untrue, because I click over at least once a week.
However, WordPress does kindly provide a probably somewhat incomplete list of the search terms people have used to find my site. Normally, I just find those amusing. And a little scary, since there seem to be an awful lot of people searching for Emily Rosenbaum, although maybe that’s because there’s a reality TV chick and a very prominent sociologist with my name. Anyway, a recent uptick in certain combinations of search terms leads me to the conclusion that folks here in this very small town have learned that I have a blog and are actively searching for it. And presumably reading.
That’s fine, of course, as there’s nothing I like more than increased blog stats. There is a downside, however, to folks here in Rockwelland reading my musings.
I have to see them twenty minutes later in the school parking lot.
I have always aimed for brutal honesty here at Wheels on the Bus, with allowances made for the privacy of my family. So, I don’t talk about my sex life,. I don’t talk about my husband’s work, our arguments (not that we ever argue), or really anything about our relationship. He’s a wonderful father and a supportive husband, but the man deserves his privacy.
I also try to respect my children’s privacy. I am fine with the occasional poop post and a few years ago I included the requisite mocking of my toddler son’s interest in his willy, although you’ll note that for some reason I do not talk about my toddler daughter’s private parts at all. I don’t know why that feels more invasive, but it does. (Although, I guess that anatomically, it really is more invasive.)
A lot of my earliest writing had to do with my anxiety over Zachary. He is complicated, and parenting him requires more ingenuity than I have on most days. Over the years, I have used this space to figure him out. I have made understanding my son’s psychology a bit of an obsession, and I continue that dedication to completely smothering my firstborn.
I just don’t think it’s right to do it in a forum being read by his friends’ parents.
Of course, I will continue to write about him, and I will try to be as honest as I can – as long as it is only my own psychology hanging out there like a big old moon in the bus window.
There is, however, an upside to knowing that people in this little town are interested in what I have to say. It provides me an opportunity for the following public service announcement to those parents I will see in the school parking lot:
Please, for the love of Mike, when you are talking to your friends, picking up your kids, combing your hair, writing the great American novel on your iphone, or otherwise not actually driving somewhere in your automobile, turn the fucking thing off. That’s my air, my children’s air, and your children’s air that you’re belching foul toxins into.
And thanks for reading.